


A Prince and a Pauper

by rottenorange221b



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, Attempted Murder, Kissing, M/M, Romance, Royalty, Sexual Content, king!mycroft - Freeform, older!Sherlock, prince!Sherlock, younger!John
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-07
Updated: 2014-10-14
Packaged: 2018-01-11 10:55:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1172214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rottenorange221b/pseuds/rottenorange221b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in the 1500s.<br/></p>
<p>Born into a poor lower-class family, John Watson is now left to fend for himself after his parents and his sister’s lives were taken away by the plague. Having spent a year in a rented room above a tavern owned by the lovely Mrs Hudson, whom of which has been a second mother to him, he has decided to move to the London to become a doctor. But along his travels, he meets a very strange yet interesting character. He doesn’t know it yet but this strange individual happens to be soon-to-be-king Prince Sherlock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very fic ever! So if it's a bit poor at the start, please forgive me. But I promise you that the story will get better. I'd also like to thank my two amazing friends who have been my awesome betas (you know who you are).

_“Take care of yourself and try and stay out of trouble. With your sister and your father gone, you must find Mrs Hudson my old friend who lives far up north. She’s an old friend, and the only one whose whereabouts I still know. I’ve grown weaker by the day and I fear I will no longer be able to fight it; that this will be it for me. I love you my son, never forget that we love you and that we’ll be watching over you from up above.”_

_Tears formed in his eyes as he watched his mother slowly close her eyes and take her last breath._

~~

Two years have passed since he lost his mother. Now, with very little money left in his pocket, John lives in a small yet spacious room above The Baker’s Inn, owned by Mrs Hudson. Before the plague had spread four years ago, everything was normal in his family. He had loving parents and a sister who probably loved him (she was constantly pestering and teasing him, like any older sister would) and they were living comfortably in their house above the family bakery. Money was tight, but they’d managed. Living as comfortably as their means allowed them, whilst all the while saving up so that John go to university and become a doctor.

But all that was taken away when the plague started. It took many lives, including his father and his sister, leaving John and his mother to pick up the pieces that were inevitably broken forever. Shortly after their deaths, his mother suddenly became victim to the plague as well. Not long after she too, was taken from John, and the only thing he had left was to find Mrs Hudson, who seemed to be protected from the plague; one of the perks of living in the middle of nowhere. 

Now at eighteen, after the death of his family, he was even more determined to become a doctor to help the sick. 

“I think what you’re doing is inspiring, John. I hope the best for you, my son,” Mrs Hudson said as she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a big hug. 

“Thank you Mrs Hudson, for everything you’ve done for me. I didn’t think I would make it after my mother died, but you’ve so kind and loving that I feel you are a second mother to me.” 

He gave her a peck on the cheek before slinging his bags over his shoulder. Waving her a last goodbye, he set off south to the beautiful capital, London where he would hopefully be spending the rest of his life. 

He finally stopped after travelling for about eight hours, it was past seven in the evening and the sun had hidden away, leaving only the moon to shine in full glory. Setting up camp for the night was an easy task, but he was in need of some firewood and food. Getting food at this hour was proving to be a bit difficult due to the fact that he was nowhere near a town and he had no hunting equipment. So John was going to have to go without food for one night.

As for the firewood, he headed into a nearby forest. On his way in, he saw a flicker of firelight, making him instinctively think that he was not alone. He was very cautious; they may be a group of rebels or worse, criminals. But he was in desperate need of food and water. Upon nearing the light, hidden behind a tree he saw only a man sitting in elegant robes staring into the fire, doing nothing else. Initially he thought the strange man looked radiant, with the light bouncing of his structured cheekbones. His well-groomed hair and extravagant shoes showed his status. What would such a man be doing out here in the middle of the forest, he wondered. 

“If you’re here to steal something, then I’m afraid that all I have are these clothes on my back,” said the strange man as he turned his head to face John. 

“Also might I point out that I can see your shadow? So your hiding place is rather compromising.” 

“I’m no harm to you I swear,” said John as he revealed himself to the stranger, “I just set up camp nearby and I came deeper into the forest to look for some firewood when I saw your light.” 

“Well…are you going to introduce yourself? It’s only polite to do so when you meet someone new for the first time.”

“Oh yes of course, I’m John by the way. John Watson.”

“Well, John I can say that you’re in luck tonight because I have some food, which you seem to be in need of.

“How do you know that?”

“I heard your stomach rumble.”

“Oh, well, ummm thank you,” John said as he smiled towards the man who still hadn’t introduced himself after forcing an introduction out of him. 

“I’m Sherlock if you must know.” 

“Pleasure to meet you, sir.” 

“Oh! No need for formalities. You make me sound important,” Sherlock stated as he smiled towards John, causing him to blush a little. 

“Please take a seat John.”

He nodded as he understood the command, placing himself on the opposite log from Sherlock. As he sat staring into the fire, he thought of how strange Sherlock’s name was. It was usually common for aristocrats to have such unusual names. It didn’t take a genius to see that Sherlock was one of them. Anyone would tell just by the way he spoke with such grace and the way he dressed. His bright coloured clothes contrasted John’s own, which were a very dull brown thing that took form of a shirt and pants. However, he swore that Sherlock was quite a familiar name, but he couldn’t place it on the tongue. Had he met this man before? Had he seen him somewhere before? He was itching to find out so he had no choice but to ask. 

“Have I seen you somewhere before?

“That depends. How often are you in London?”

“You’re from London?”

“Naturally!” he spoke with such power. He presumed that such a man with a lack of knowledge of the royal family must mean that he’s from some isolated location.

“I’m sorry if I’ve offended you. Please accept my apologies, sir.”

“What did I say about formalities?” Sherlock said with a smirk on his face. “Anyway, I was the one who overreacted, so I reject your apology”. 

John couldn’t help but smile at this man’s charisma. Never had he met anyone like Sherlock. It was normal for higher classes to look down on the lower-working class societies in this day and age, but Sherlock enjoyed his company and treated John as one of his own. 

“About that food, you must be starving. Here help yourself to some. I don’t usually eat so there’s plenty for you.”

“You don’t usually eat? Sherlock, people need to eat if they want to stay healthy!” John lectured Sherlock as he offered some food to him. 

“Yes, but I’m not people,” Sherlock said as he gave a cheeky smirk. 

~~ 

He slowly opened his eyes as the sun appeared above the horizon, and saw Sherlock sleeping upright against the tree. He couldn’t help but admire just how attractive he was; with those large red lips and that striking cupid’s bow on his upper lip upon which he dreamt of placing his own lips…what was he thinking?! John Watson was not a lover of men. He loved women! Or so he thought….

"John, you’re staring at me.”

“Oh, sorry, ummm I’m just quite tired,” he laughed nervously, “I…um…must’ve been daydreaming.”

“Of course,” Sherlock returned as he smiled. Sherlock was not one to be known as naïve. He knew when someone liked him just by looking at their facial expressions and their body language. 

“We must depart soon. First, we’ll find a place to eat before we reach London. I know a place not far from here, just ten miles west.”

They shortly took off on Sherlock’s horse and arrived at an inn in no more than an hour. Angelo’s Inn, it was named. The exterior looked neglected but on the inside, it was surprisingly welcoming. Taking a seat at a booth near the  
window, the waiter came over with a large grin on his face. As he was about to speak, Sherlock gave the man a look of warning; a signal not to use his title. The man complied and immediately softened his expression.

“Sherlock, pleasure to see you again. It’s been too long since you’ve come to visit. You must be busy eh?”

“Angelo, I’d like you to meet John Watson,” Sherlock turned to face John, “John meet Angelo, the owner of this “fine” establishment.” 

“This man is a saviour! He saved my business.”

“I simply prevented it from being closed by debt collectors, just because he refused to pay the tax.” 

“Sorry, how did you manage that?” John spoke with surprise. 

Sherlock smiled has he began to speak. “Angelo took me in and looked after me when I was found ill in the forest, simply for staying out too long in the rain. Who’d know the rain could do such a thing. It’s just water! Anyway I saved his restaurant from closure as a token of my gratitude. I don’t usually do that.”

“What would you like to eat? Anything you’d like, it’s on the house.”

“We’ll just take have two drinks and some breakfast. Thank you,” John smiled. 

~~

After breakfast they set off for London on Sherlock’s horse. John enjoyed the fact that he had his arms wrapped around the brunette. But all that ended when they arrived at the borders of London. Sherlock dismounted the horse first and then gave a hand to John who was having slight trouble getting off. As he landed his feet on the ground, he tumbled backwards and landed on his bum. Sherlock chuckled hysterically, but John was having none of it and gave him an angry look but soon realised the hilarity of the situation and joined in. Sherlock extended his hand and helped him onto his feet. 

“I guess this is where we must part ways,” John expressed with such sadness in his tone. 

“Don’t worry John, we’ll meet again. I’m sure of it,” Sherlock stated, as he smiled softly. 

They parted ways in opposite directions. John headed towards the capital’s borders where he was stopped by some officials. After handing over official documents, they allowed him to pass through to London where he would hopefully be able to start a bright new future. Such a large city felt alien to him after having to live in small villages all his life, he was not used to such vibrancy and liveliness. This new experience was strange and frightening. No, he thought to himself, it was exhilarating.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> None of this is historically accurate. St Bartholomew’s Hospital was founded in 1123 and was known as The Royal Hospital of St Bartholomew. It’s featured from this point of the story where John applies to study medicine, but St Bart’s didn’t become a teaching hospital until 1785. In fact there weren’t any proper teaching hospitals until the 19th century. Medicine was taught as early as the late 15th century, although no formal medical school was established. The fact that I’m using Barts as a place of study for John’s is completely historically inaccurate. However this is only fiction, so not everything will be accurate.

He was in awe of the magnificent grey-stoned building, with large arched windows, that stood before him. This fantastic piece of architectural art was known as The Royal Hospital of St Bartholomew. It was unlike any other building he had ever seen in his lifetime. He made his way through the entrance where he was greeted by the institute representative. 

He explained to the gentleman, who was dressed in a grey, dull robe from head to toe, that he had recently sent a letter concerning his interest in joining the institute to begin studies in medicine. The gentleman, who introduced himself as Edward, then replied with an explanation that a fee was needed to be provided by John in order to join this establishment. John then with replied with anger and concern, knowing that he could not afford any of this. 

“I was not aware that I had to pay for any of this!” 

“Sir, please lower your voice or I shall have to ask you to leave.” Edward retorted. 

John begrudgingly obeyed and unclenched his fists, which had been tightened during his outburst. He felt rather disappointed not only of the fact that it had taken him five days to get to London, but he felt like he had disappointed his mother. John had broken a promise to her. He tried his best not to let tears fall from his eyes but couldn’t control his emotions. John stood up and thanked the man siting opposite him and walked out the door. At this point, he just wanted to go home, but as he was walking towards the exit, he heard a voice from behind him and turned his body to face it. 

“John Watson!” shouted by that voice again. 

“John!” the man repeated as he ran towards him. 

“Do I know you?” John asked. 

“No, but you’d want to know me.” 

John looked puzzled. _Who was this strange man who was so desperate to get his attention_ , he thought to himself. The man was dressed in very expensive-looking clothes, much like Sherlock did, but the colours were more subdued.

“I overheard you in there. Sorry for eavesdropping, but I heard you want to become a doctor, am I correct?” 

“Yes. Sorry, but why were you listening?”

“Because you look interesting, and in need of help.”

“Who are you?” John asked, trying to get a name from him. 

“Ohhhhhh, just your guardian angel,” he said with a very sly smirk, “I can help you with the money, help pay your way through medical school.”

The man’s speech was like music. He spoke with great variations in pitch; it was most unusual for John. 

“Why are you doing this for me?” John had suspicions. He didn’t know why anyone would want to help him. He couldn’t think of a reason. 

“Did you not listen to me, sheesh. I said it’s because you look like you have potential. Lots of potential. Why, do you not trust me?” the man was getting irritated. 

“Maybe,” John replied firmly, “We’ve only just met. I don’t know anything about you. I don’t even know your name.” He was starting to get a defensive. There just too many questions swimming in John’s head at this moment in time. 

“Jameson is what they call me,” he said, with a grin. He extended his right hand. John naturally did so as well and shook it. 

“So you really want to help me?” John let his guard down. This man didn’t seem harmful. He looked like he genuinely wanted to help him. 

“Yes! Of course, just think of me as your benefactor.”  
“Alright.” John replied with haste, but he was expecting Jameson to say something else. 

“Except…” 

“I knew that was coming,” as John had predicted. 

Jameson chuckled. He knew John Watson was smart; that he wasn’t just going to offer to pay his school fees without something in return. He was definitely smart; which was why he liked him. 

“It’s simple; you just do whatever I say. That’s it. Just easy jobs and tasks for you to do. Nothing too dangerous. Nothing that will risk you getting kicked out.”

John had the look of uncertainty. He didn’t know what to expect of this guy; was he to trust him or not. He didn’t want to ponder on that thought for too long, it would make it seem as though he was backing down from this agreement. He senses something strange in this guy; he had a chilling sensation in the back of his spine, but at the same time he felt that he could trust him. Too many thoughts were swimming in his head, and it was messing with his decision. 

In the end, he decided to trust Jameson. He may have many doubts about him, but he’s only just met the guy. So it was only natural for him to feel that way. He extended his hand and they shook hands again. Their agreement was now official. 

~~ 

A few days after his encounter with Jameson, it was the first day of school for John. He had excitement but he had feelings of doubt in his stomach. He wasn’t too sure why, but it’s just one of those feelings you don’t know why you have, but do. 

He was greeted at the door by one familiar face. _Edward was his name maybe_ , he thought. Edward had a large grin on his face just as he spotted John entering the building. It was a bit too much for John in all honesty. He was clearly glad to see John, but John’s feelings were not mutual. That was for sure. 

“Ahhhh Mr Watson, so glad to see you again!” the man said with such spirit in his tone. 

John had to put on a face. He wasn’t particularly happy to see this man again, especially when he acted so condescending at the last encounter they had together. In actual fact, he knew why Edward acted that way to him. It’s all about status in this day and age. John didn’t have the nicest clothes, his shoes are a bit worn out and he didn’t look particularly well groomed. But he was exceptionally bright for a young lad who couldn’t afford education. 

~~

Education was the preserve of the wealthy. He was known in his village as the little prodigy because even though he wasn’t formally educated, he still taught himself how to read from a small local library that existed on the outskirts of the village. It took an hour and a bit to walk to and from, but for him it was the excitement of reading that motivated the long trips to the library each day. So when was ten years of age, a wealthy gentleman spotted the young boy coming out of the library one afternoon and came up to him. He gave little John a small gift; a small gift from the gentleman which seemed a very large gift to John. He was ever so grateful and thanked the man. What he had given John was enough money for him to buy a book. So with his newly acquired gift, he immediately sprinted to the local bookshop; no more than five minutes from the library. 

He was welcomed by a kind old man who immediately took a shine to John. It was an unusual day for the old man as well as John’s. He didn’t typically have very young customers come into his shop. In fact most of his customers were wealthy, with age and men who could read. As soon as John walked in, he walked straight to the bookcases of science and anatomy books. The elderly gentleman came up to him. 

“How may I help you son?” 

“I’m just looking at books, I swear. I’m not going to steal anything!” Poor little John was so defensive. As smart as we was, he knew young little boys didn’t know how to read, especially those who couldn’t afford to read. He just assumed the shop-keep was suspicious of his activities. It was known for little young boys to steal from shops in their spare time, well those who were mischievous.

“No, I don’t suspect you would. You don’t look like the type,” he said as he smiled softly, to let John know that he meant no harm, “I’m merely interested to know what you love to read. That is all, my son.” The shop-keep could tell that this one particular boy was not ordinary. He had the look of knowledge in him. 

They spent the next hour discussing science. It was an extraordinary conversation to listen to; the old and the young discussing scientific topics such as anatomy, astronomy and the much talked about recent discoveries made by some Italian scientist. 

After that, the old man couldn’t help but have great admiration for John. From that day, they had become good friends and as a token of their newly-formed friendship, he gave John a book as a gift. John was more than surprised when presented with such a gift. His eyes lit up at the beautifully leather-bound book. It was quite a large book with tan-brown leather that covered the entire book. The spine had a panel of red towards the top that had the name of the book and the author, which read _The Fabric of the Human Body_ by _Andreas Vesalius_. It had been that moment in time which had inspired John Watson to pursue a future in medicine. 

~~

His first class of the day was herbal medicine. He knew quite a lot about it, especially from a young age, which he could attribute to thankfully meeting Mr Gardner, the old man at the bookshop. 

Four hours later, he made his way out of the theatre after the class on herbal medicine had finished. He felt exhilarated and he had thoroughly enjoyed every second of it. 

He heard a voice as he walked out. It was the same voice he heard on the first day he stepped foot in Barts.

“John! Over here!” 

He turned and as he expected, it was Jameson. The man ran towards him, pushing through the crowd of medical students. 

“John,” he repeated.

John was lead into a private room not far down the corridor of the main theatre. 

“I’m glad I can catch you, I have a task for you my friend.”

John frowned at the request. He knew from the second he saw Jameson he knew what he wanted. Jameson continued. 

“I need you to go to a party.”

“Really? Me go to a party? Why?” 

“Because I said so. I want you to meet some people. You know, get to know people. It’s called socialising. I know some important people who run this hospital. It could increase your chances of getting a good career once you’ve finished your studies. I want to show you off!” Jameson exclaimed.

“So when’s this social gathering?” 

“Wednesday night, and it’s a very special ball.” 

“Wednesday! But I don’t have any suitable clothes!”

“I know! Don’t worry Princess, I’ve got it all sorted. You’ve got an appointment at with my personal tailor tomorrow who will make you a divine dress suit for the event on Wednesday.” 

“Wow, I don’t know what to say. I guess um…thank you, thanks for all this.”

“Eh, don’t worry about it. Like I said, you’ve got tonnes of potential. I want to see you shine,” he said with a glorious grin on his face. 

~~

Wednesday night approached quicker than John had expected. He was dressed in beautiful and elegant clothes from head to toe. He wore a navy blue jacket otherwise known as a doublet, with stunning embroidered patterns on the fabric with gold vertical stripes on the shoulder pads and sleeves. Underneath the doublet, he wore a silk purple shirt with similar embroidery, covering the neck and the jacket was fastened with rope that criss-crossed around buttons that spanned from the collar to the hem of the jacket, on both sides of the jacket. The trouser echoed the jacket; they were also navy with gold vertical stripes around the trouser legs. He wore knee-high black leather boots that felt very soft and expensive. It was beyond the quality that he was used to. Words could not describe what he was feeling at this moment. 

When he finished checking out his newly-acquired garments, a knock on the door was sounded. John opened the door to find the driver requesting for him to depart to the ball. Anyone could just look at this situation right now and find it rather strange; a young man dressed in the very luxurious, being collected in a horse and carriage, and yet he lives in a shabby, tiny room above a butcher’s shop. 

~~ 

He arrived at the grandest locations he’d ever seen. _It must be a palace_ , he thought to himself. The entire structure was made of beautiful red bricks and was covered in plenty of massive windows. The entrance to the palace was through the main arch-way, leading into the largest courtyard he had ever seen. He was lead inside by one of the servants, who took him to the grand ballroom, where every nobleman and aristocrat was found in this enormous palace. 

John was very nervous; he didn’t know anyone. He’d expect to meet Jameson here because he requested his presence at this event, however no sight or sound of Jameson could be found. But within moments, he was greeted with a tap on his back. He turned around to see who was requesting his attention and surprise, surprise it was who he’d been looking for since he arrived. 

“So glad you can make it John. Have a glass of wine,” Jameson commanded as he handed him a glass.

“Big crowd, huh?”

“Don’t be scared. It’s alright, they won’t bite. I promise.”

“So what am I doing here again?”

“For fun! Who wants to just sit around all Wednesday evening and do nothing?”

“Oooh, I don’t know…people who can’t afford to have fun like this!”

“Oh just calm down will you. You don’t want to create a scene here. Not especially here!”

“Where am I anyway?” asked John.

“Don’t you know?” Jameson questioned with much surprise.

“If I knew, I wouldn’t ask!” John spat.

“You’re at the Royal Palace! Geez don’t go around saying you don’t know where the Royals live, everyone knows where they live! They’d think you’re some commoner living in a secluded village.”

“I am one!”

“Shhhhh, keep your voice down!” Jameson whispered, “anyway I need to take care of some business, so if you’ll excuse me.”

Within a second, Jameson was gone. He’d disappeared into the crowd of people. A few moments later, there was lots of whisper, chatter and heads turning from side to side as if they were expecting to see something. Then loud trumpets sounded the fanfare to signify the entrance of the Royals. Loud voices announced each member of the royal family as they entered the grand ballroom. 

“Announcing His Majesty, King Mycroft!”

“Announcing His Highness, Prince Sherlock!”

“Announcing Her Majesty King Mycroft The King Mother!” 

The Royals made their way down the stairs as the men lowered their heads and bowed, whilst the women lowered their heads and curtsied. 

John could not believe his eyes. He bowed but kept his head up to look at Sherlock as he made his way down the stairs with his mother linked to his arm. His Sherlock, the one he’d met was definitely not the Sherlock he was looking at right now. _No, this isn’t happening _, he thought to himself, The Sherlock he met was just some guy he’d met in the woods and spent the night with. The Sherlock he’d met seemed like a normal guy. He thought to himself _why did Sherlock not tell him who he was? Did Sherlock think that he would rat him out for blackmail, for money? Did Sherlock not trust him?_ There were just too many questions to ask.__

But above all the doubt, he couldn’t help but think how handsome he looked in his royal dress suit. Strange thoughts roamed in his head once again and for that, he mentally scolded himself as punishment. But just as John was about to look away, Sherlock’s gaze had met his. His heart had skipped a beat when that moment occurred. He couldn’t take his eyes off of Sherlock’s. Those blue-green eyes were so vibrant and piercing, that he could see them from a distance of a hundred feet, behind the large crowd. This was too much for John to process. 

He wanted to ask Sherlock so many questions, but to get to him proved to be quite difficult, as he was surrounded by dozens of guards. Just as Jameson told him; “don’t start a scene.” He took those words as bible and remained put. Sherlock’s words swam around his head; _“Don’t worry John, we’ll meet again. I’m sure of it.”_

If he was true to his word, then Sherlock would come to John and not the other way around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is an image of what John was wearing at the ball: http://www.pinterest.com/pin/554646510330459904/


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A word of warning guys, this chapter is already rated M for adult content. Yeah I know, it wasn’t supposed to be M for a few more chapters, but it just sort of happened. *cue Sherlock folding napkins gif*. Anyway please forgive the poor M rated scene; it is my first time writing something like that.

The ring of the bell resonated through the room and a butler announced that dinner was served causing everyone to make their way into the dining room, including John. Once at the table, he took his seat, which happened to be located as far away as possible from Sherlock. King Mycroft was seated at the head of the table with Sherlock and his mother on either side of him. John felt a bit too ordinary amongst others on the table; he was sat with some of the most esteemed noblemen in the country. Chatter had calmed when the food was served. 

During the meal, there were occasional glances between Sherlock and John. He tried avoiding Sherlock’s gaze, but he couldn’t help staring at the Prince. He looked utterly stunning is in grand attire. He wore red doublet with a cape that draped over his left shoulder. The doublet was embossed with gold embroidered patterns all around the lining of the cape and the jacket, with the royal family insignia printed on the bottom left corner of the cape. The black velvet collar was high enough that it covered his entire neck. The jacket was fastened with gold buttons that spanned all the way down his torso. The style of the trousers echoed the jacket. They were white with red stripes, nothing too fancy; a contrast to the jacket and cape. 

“Once everyone had finished their meal, King Mycroft stood, raised his cup and waited a mere second. The room instantly fell silent as everyone turned towards the King, anxiously awaiting the first words of his speech.”

“Friends, family, esteemed guests, I would like you all to raise your cups for my brother; Prince Sherlock,” he said as he extended his arm higher into the air. 

“Today, little brother, you are one year older. Unlike me, you still have your youth. Middle age gets to us all, and one day it will happen to you. But today, you turn thirty-five. Still unmarried as it seems, but I’m sure you’ll fix that very soon, I hope,” he said with feigned laughter as Sherlock quickly masked his annoyance.

“Because one day, you’ll be sitting on that throne reigning this country and mother and I will be expecting you to rule alongside your family. Unfortunately for me, as you may all already know, my beautiful wife, Anthea passed away two years ago with our stillborn child,” he mourned. The room was so quiet the sorrow that swept across the room could be felt. John was looking around; he didn’t really know what was going on. He understood that the King had lost his wife a few years ago, but being up in the north news of the royal family never really travelled to that region of England. They were pretty much isolated from the rest of the country. He looked at Sherlock, who like everyone else, was displaying grief upon hearing these words. Losing a part of your family was hard for anyone; he understood that very well. He couldn’t help but feel sorry for the King and his family. A small tear was forming in the corner of his eyes; the loss reminded him of his family. 

The mood was turning grey, so the King continued. 

“But on a lighter subject, I think we should raise cups and wish my brother a very happy thirty-fifth birthday…”

“I think happy is slightly ironic in this case, you really know how to butcher a speech, don’t you, Mycroft?” Sherlock belted out heartlessly. 

“Sherlock! How dare you!” berated his mother.

Sherlock’s face turned sour. John couldn’t help but laugh, even though he knew it was wrong, given the situation. He turned to look at Sherlock who smiled back at him and winked. John’s face turned red; this situation couldn’t get any worse. 

After the somewhat interesting speech, the guests all headed back into the ballroom where many other festivities took place. Men and women were all making their way into the centre to take part in the dance. The musicians were positioned on the far side of the room on slightly raised platform. The music began and all the men were dancing with their partners; the atmosphere was exciting. John made his way up the stairs and he looked out to the dance floor where he could see a fantastic flurry of colourful ball gowns all spinning around in circles.

He continued his way up the stairs and went into one of the many empty rooms. He couldn’t stay in the ballroom for too long. It was awkward to him; he didn’t know anyone which meant he didn’t have anyone to dance with. He had a very shy personality; it was hard for him to just go up to anyone and make conversation. This was a problem that had stuck with him since he was a child; he didn’t have many friends, the only real friend he’d had was Mr Gardner.

He found a dark empty bedroom which was larger than anything he’d ever seen. It made his tiny room above the butcher’s look even smaller. Even the en-suite bathroom that he noticed looked bigger than his room. He couldn’t help but feel a bit criminal at the moment; sneaking around the palace, snooping around people’s bedrooms. His intentions were purely innocent; he was just nosey and bored. 

“You know, if anyone caught you sneaking around the Prince’s bedroom, you’d be in big trouble. It’s a good thing I know him,” a low voice spoke. 

John turned around quickly as he heard the voice, but by the time he did, the voice was gone. He spoke again.

“I’ve been watching you all night. Quite the little busy bee you are, dotting around the palace like nobody’s business.”

John turned again to see where the voice was coming from. Once again, he couldn’t see anyone but it was getting closer.

“I promised I’d see you again John Watson. I just didn’t expect to see you here.”

This time the voice was next to his ear, breathing down his neck in a whispered tone. He was getting shivers down his spine, and his arm, and in other places as well. He felt arms wrapping around him from the back and it pulled him into the body of the man who spoke. 

“Sherlock?” 

“Yes John?” the response sparked a realisation. _It definitely is Sherlock_ he thought. 

“What are you doing?” John blushed as he questioned the man’s actions. 

“I’m seducing you, can’t you tell?”

“Wha…What do you mean?” His face was flustered. Blood was rushing all around his body. His heart rate hastened. 

“Like I said, I’ve been watching you. I noticed you couldn’t stop staring at me all night.”

“I was shocked to see you, Sherlock. That’s all. I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“I know you know what I’m talking about. You just don’t want to accept it. I can read you like a book,” he whispered into his ear as he started planting gentle kisses along the sides of the neck and the nape. 

“Sherlock…” he breathed out, “wha…what…what if someone spots us?” 

“They won’t care,” Sherlock reassured him as he continued kissing his neck and wrapping his arms around John’s waist tighter. 

“I think, they will. The King will have my head if he finds us like this.” 

“No they won’t,” Sherlock said with certainty.

“Sherlock.” His voice was stern and released Sherlock’s grip around him. He turned around to face the man. “You forgot to tell me something when we first met.”

Sherlock looked confused. 

“John, I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re on about.”

“Sherlock, who are you?”

Sherlock looked even more confused at this point. He once again stated his thoughts to John.

“John, I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sherlock.” One word was all he got from John. 

“Oh… I see,” he came to a realisation, “John, I don’t understand why I had the need to tell you. I couldn’t see the importance of telling you who I was.”

“But you’re the Prince!”

“John, I don’t waste my time with trivial things.”

“It’s a bit not trivial Sherlock. I mean, you’ll be sitting on that throne as King one day, running the country. That matters to you, doesn’t it?”

“Umm, not really. It’s just a job like any others. How hard can it be? Well, not very, if you ask me.”

John couldn’t believe what he was hearing. 

“But why didn’t you tell me?”

“What do you mean? I just told you, I don’t care about names, titles, status. It’s all not important.”

“No, Sherlock. I meant why didn’t you tell _me_?”

Sherlock certainly knew that John wasn’t stupid, like the rest of the world. The first time he had met John, Sherlock knew immediately that he was different. He was smart, kind and that he was the only person he’d had met who he could stand being with, for more than five minutes.

He finally confessed to John, “I didn’t my status to affect our friendship.”

“What do you mean?” John asked.

“You’re the first person I ever met who I wanted to be friends with. Believe it or not but I don’t have friends. But when I met you, I wanted you.”

“A…a...as a friend?” John Stuttered. 

“Initially, yes.”

“Not anymore?”

“No. Because friends can’t be lovers.”

He tightened the grasp of his arms around John. Then he whispered into his ear with a deepened voice.

“John I could tell from the first time we met, that you had an attraction for me. But because your thoughts were conflicting, you didn’t pursue your feelings for me. You grew up in a Christian family; those kind of thoughts are forbidden which explains why you were in denial. But you simply couldn’t control your feelings; you kept staring at me during dinner. Just now when I wrapped my arms around you, I could feel your heartbeat racing. Your cheeks blush every time I look your way. And just now as you’re staring at me, your pupils are dilating and your mouth has parted ever so slightly as I speak.”

“Wow,” John breathed, “you got all that just by looking at me?” 

“Impressed?” Sherlock asked.

“A little,” he replied. Sherlock was not convinced, “alright, a lot.” 

At this, Sherlock smirked. He leaned forward and closed his eyes as he planted his lips on John’s. He parted John’s lips with his tongue. John couldn’t believe what was happening; he wrapped his arms around Sherlock's neck in the midst of passion. His tongue met Sherlock’s and they meshed together in a heated kiss. Sherlock ran his hands up and down John’s back. The moment was the most sensual thing they had ever experienced. As the kiss intensified, John ran his hands through Sherlock’s hair, messing up the black silky curls that felt so soft underneath his fingertips. Sherlock sucked on John’s lips as John ruffled his hair and teased his lips with soft nips along the bottom lip. Then at the peak of the moment, he gently bit John’s lip causing John to groan. 

John’s heart was racing so fast that he could feel it bursting out of his chest. Their lips broke apart and Sherlock leaned forward once again and placed his forehead on John’s and continued looking into those beautiful orbs of blue that belonged to his lover. _His lover? Is that what they were now? Did the kiss make them lovers now?_ These thoughts ran through Sherlock’s mind. He wasn’t sure of their relationship status, but he didn’t care at this moment, he just knew that he had this special connection with John. Did he love him? Is that what love felt like?

A few moments later, he parted himself from John and walked towards the door, leaving John looking confused. He turned his head, smiling at John flirtatiously and giving him a naughty, playful wink. He closed the door and locked it with the key already in the keyhole; separating them from the rest of the world.

John just stood in the middle of the room, still looking confused. Sherlock searched around for a torch to light up his room. With the room, slightly lit up, he walked up to John and took his hand, and lead him to his large four-posted bed which were draped with beautiful red silk velvet curtains, tied back with gold rope. He put his left arm just above the small of John’s back and bent slightly forward to place his other arm behind his knees and swiftly picked John up, throwing him onto the tall bed so quickly that he couldn’t get a word out. He went around each post of the bed, undoing the ties of the rope and closing the drapes, making the space more private and intimate. 

He climbed onto the bed joining his lover, pushing him down onto the bed, pulling off his and John’s boots and then slowly undoing every button of John’s jacket, teasing the man underneath him. He threw John’s jacket aside then pulled the shirt off of him and went to work with removing his jacket as well. Once he removed his jacket and the shirt underneath, he ran his hands from John’s neck, stroking the slightly tanned skin of his torso, and then slowly circling his thumb around John’s pink erect nipples. A strange sensation made John groan a little; strange in the sense that the feeling, although pleasurable, was entirely new to him.

Sherlock started undoing the button on John’s trousers and pulled them off as John shimmied out of them. John was left exposed feeling very naked, both metaphorically and physically. Sherlock threw himself forward, lying on top of John and pressing his face into his neck and breathing warm air onto him, taking in the scent of his beloved. John wrapped his arms around Sherlock, caressing his hair whilst whispering sweet nothings into his ear. 

“Sherlock, you’ve still got your trousers on,” he whispered with a smile as he looked down to catch Sherlock’s eyes that were looking back at him.

“Help me take them off then.”

“Yes your highness.” John obeyed, causing Sherlock to chuckle. 

With all their clothing removed, John couldn’t help but stare at Sherlock’s beautifully pale skin. Still lying on his back, he grabbed Sherlock’s hands and yanked him on top of him again. He opened his legs, allowing Sherlock to lie between them. Sherlock grabbed John’s nape with his left hand whilst the other reached down to grab his erection, stroking it slowly to begin with. He leant forward to place kisses on his stomach and telling him that everything was going to be alright, ensuring that he’ll feel nothing but pleasure. His right hand quickened to a fast pace; attempting to bring John close to climax without him actually reaching it. 

The sensation was too much for John, all the blood was rushing to his cock and up to his head. He let out a strangle cry, but then Sherlock stopped pumping his cock. He searched desperately for Sherlock’s eyes but his erection was hurting so much that he shut his eyes again. 

“Sherlock, please,” he begged, “I need to come.”

“Shhh, not yet, just hold it for a bit longer. I want to claim you now,” he whispered into his ear, “I’m going to prepare you first. Just wait a bit longer my John.”

“Just hurry it up, please Sherlock!”

Sherlock got out of bed and disappeared through the drapes. John heard him open a drawer to retrieve something, but he wasn’t sure what it was. He couldn’t see through the curtains. His prince returned with a bottle of something, what looks to be like some sort of oil. He opened the bottle and poured some oil onto his fingertips, rubbing it onto both hands and placed the cap back on.

“This might hurt a little. Just hold out through the pain. I assure you, it will feel pleasurable afterwards.” He whispered as he placed a kiss on John’s temple.

He started circling the tightened hole, teasing John by adding slight pressure whilst stroking it watching John writhing beneath him. He could see John basically begging for more. He could continue to tease and torture him or give him what he wants but he chooses the latter, knowing it would be cruel if he continued. 

Sherlock inserted one finger to start with, sliding it in and out whilst adding pressure to the sweet spot. He started off nice and slow to ease him into it. As he hastened the pace, the inserted another finger and continued until he had three fingers sliding in and out over his prostate. Watching John writhe in utter pleasure made Sherlock’s cock hard and leaking with pre-come. He was getting closer to bringing John close to orgasm but he wanted to make sure he couldn’t reach it until Sherlock was fully in him. 

“Are you read John?” he asked.

“Bloody hell Sherlock, I’ve been ready for the past half an hour!” John’s patience was wearing thin.

To prepare himself, he started pumping his on cock with his hand, adding more oil to his prick. He wanted to be close to climax so that he could release at the same time as John. John was fairly close; he just needed that extra push. Sherlock was kneeling in between John’s splayed-open legs, slowly pressing his erection into John’s virgin hole, inch-by-inch until he was fully inside. He stayed there for a moment, feeling the warmth gathering around his cock. 

John didn’t realise how big and long Sherlock was. The feeling of fullness left his mouth was wide open, in the shape of an “o”. Initially it felt painful, but the lack of movement on Sherlock’s end allowed John to adjust and gradually pain turned into pleasure. Sherlock started rocking gently, knowing that this was new to his lover. The thrusts were getting bigger and faster; the head hitting and knocking that sweet spot over and over again with maximum pressure. He was hitting John so hard that John lolled his head backwards, arched his back and spread his legs wide, giving Sherlock better access. 

With each pump, John and Sherlock were getting closer to climax. The thrusts were getting more intense each time, so much that they started screaming each other’s names as loudly as they could. They didn’t care who could hear them, all they cared about was each other. They shut the rest of the world out when that door was closed. This was their reality; their togetherness, their desire and their love for each other. 

As they were about to come, John wrapped his legs around Sherlock and used all his strength to push Sherlock further into him as they released. John spurted out white ribbons of release onto their bodies. He felt a sudden warmth growing inside him as Sherlock released. It felt so intimate, it felt so personal. Whilst still inside John, Sherlock jerked forward to claim John’s lips once again. This time the kiss was heated and desperate as they continued to writhe in pleasure. John smoothes his hand over Sherlock’s sweaty hair. Their sticky and sweaty bodies were rubbing against each other as their kiss deepened. 

A few minutes later, Sherlock pulled himself out of John and propped his head onto the pillow, pulling John up towards him so that John was resting on his chest. They basked in their afterglow, as they watched the moonlight shine through the window. He curled his arm around John, holding him tightly to his chest. John had placed his hand over Sherlock’s heart, feeling his pulse; it was still racing with excitement. They stayed silent for a while whilst they recovered their breaths. 

“John, I have a question I’d like to ask you.”

“Yes?”

“How did you know that I would be at this party?”

“Sherlock, I didn’t know you were going to be at this party. Heck, I didn’t even know that this entire event was for you.”

“Then why did you come?”

“I was invited.”

“By whom?”

John took a deep breath as if he were about to speak. 

“John, who invited you to this private event?”

“Some guy that I met.”

“What guy?” Sherlock’s tone stiffened. He felt cheated at the moment.

“Hold on, that’s not what I meant.” John sat up and faced the worried looking Sherlock, “He told me his name was Jameson.”

“I don’t know anyone called Jameson.” Sherlock was starting to get worried. “Where did you meet him?” he asked with a stern voice. 

“I met him on the first day I arrived at The Royal Hospital of St Bartholomew. When I tried to enrol onto the course, they told me that I had to pay a fee. I didn’t know that there was a fee to pay, so I didn’t have any money with me. Well, I didn’t have enough anyway. Jameson apparently overheard my conversation and offered to pay my school fees. Obviously he wanted something in return but I was so desperate that I said yes. But oddly enough the first thing he wanted me to do was attend this party. I didn’t even realise it was a royal party heck, I didn’t even realise that you were a Prince.” 

“How could you take an offer from a man you barely knew, and only for a few meagre minutes?”

“I was desperate Sherlock! I travelled for days just to get to London I wasn’t going to turn back!”

“Well what did he look like?”

“Umm, I don’t know. A pretty average looking rich twat, like you,” he replied with a grin on his face. Sherlock frowned of course. “He had short dark brown or maybe black hair and brown eyes. He’s probably the same height as me. Yeah, that’s pretty much it.” 

“Hmmmm, that’s not much to go on, that probably narrows it down to half the entire population.” 

“Yeah, ok, alright Sherlock, he’s probably quite an average looking guy, with money of course.”

“Oh, is that what you go for?” Sherlock teased. 

“No, I go for rich lying pricks like you,” he answered jokingly.

“Good, as long as you know you’re mine, then that’s fine by me.”

“So is it official then? Are we what they call ‘a couple’ now?”

“Well I’m not sure how mummy and Mycroft will react? But I think they should be alright…eventually. Not that they’ll have a choice. I’m quite difficult when I don’t get what I want.” 

“Are you now?” John questioned whilst he extended his neck to place a soft kiss on Sherlock’s lips. Sherlock groaned and begged for more.

“I say we should go another round.” 

“I’m tired Sherlock, I think we should go to sleep.” 

“No John, I’m saying we are going for another round.”

“You’re kidding right?” John was genuinely frightened. “Please tell me you’re just joking around.”

“John, I never joke. And I wouldn’t recommend disobeying the Prince.”

“And what if I do? Will you have my head?” he said playfully. 

“We’ll see.” He winked at John. 

“I’d best not risk it then.”

“Good answer,” With that, Sherlock pecked John on the lips and pushed him down onto the bed once more for round two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here a link to the outfit Sherlock was wearing: http://www.pinterest.com/pin/554646510330459895/


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the incredibly late update. I've had so much going on during the summer - I was in hospital for a bit and spent the latter half of my summer recovering. But anyway that's not the real reason for my tardiness. Writer's block is the real reason why I had a hard time with this chapter. It turns out that if you don't plan out your chapters before writing them, you will have a hard time coming up with the story. Yeah...so I learnt that coming up with the story as you go along is not ideal. However from this chapter onwards, I have planned future installments (up to chapter 9 so far). Not sure how many chapters there are in this story, but I guess it'll be as many as it takes to reach the resolution. 
> 
> Sorry for this rant, I'll let you read the chapter now.

A week had since passed and John was back in his crappy little room above the butchers. How he wished to be back in Sherlock’s bedroom, on that massive four-post luxurious bed, furnished with the softest, silkiest sheets he’d ever touched, with his beautiful, handsome prince lying on it. His long, elegant hands roaming around his body, touching him in his most private places, caressing the skin and that deep voice whispering sweet nothings in his ear. He couldn’t stop thinking about Sherlock and it was distracting him too much.

John’s dreams were cut short by the morning sun, piercing through his eyelids. He woke with a fright by the sound of chickens clucking as they laid their eggs. Only he would have the pleasure of getting front row seats to the wonderful orchestra of chickens at the crack of dawn, what with his well-placed bedroom which was directly opposite a chicken farm; great for the butchers, not so great for Mr. Watson here. 

Shortly after washing up and getting dressed, he quickly made his way to St. Barts. He stopped to get some bread on the way, narrowly making it on time to the first lecture of the day, but many of the seats were taken up. John scanned around the room to find an empty seat near the front, but most were takes as soon as he spotted one. He kept his eyes open and managed to find one, so he hastened his way to it before anyone else could. It wasn’t too far from the front, and the only person occupying the seat next to it was Molly Hooper. Molly was the only person John had the luck of befriending. Everyone else simply ignored John when he approached them. He couldn’t understand why most people were just stuck-up arseholes. Not Molly though, she was a sweet and kind girl, intelligent too. She was one of the very few females who were given the chance to study in what seemed to be a male-dominant subject. 

As he approached her, “A fine morning, my good Molly,” he said with a smile.

“As it would seem, my fair John,” she returned with a giggle. 

“How has the weekend treated you?” 

“Helped my ma with the housework, but not a bad one if I might say so, and what about yours?” she replied. 

“Not too bad, just had a weekend to myself.” That part was true but he didn’t want tell her what really went through his mind lately. It wasn’t her business and it also meant that he wouldn’t have to explain everything to her. 

The lecture started not long after and he couldn’t help but notice a few eyes staring in his direction. They were mostly girls, pretty ones too. Before he had met Sherlock, he had a few girlfriends in his hometown. Looking at his current relationship, one would that he was “experimenting”, but to him, he wasn’t. He couldn’t see himself with anyone else other than Sherlock. Sherlock was just the most fascinating, remarkable man he had ever had the privilege of meeting. He glanced at the ladies staring at him and gave them a cheeky smile, which made them snigger at each other, quietly. He thought to himself that he still had a little charm in him left. If Sherlock ever found out that John had returned their flirty exchanges, he’d probably imagine that Sherlock would be least pleased. So he returned to the lecture in progress, kept his eyes down and tried to pay attention. 

It was nearly one o’clock in the afternoon and they had been stuck in there since nine in the morning, listening to the lecturer dribbling on about infectious diseases. Many were glad that it was over, meaning that they would all rush out the door in no orderly fashion. John tried to make his way out but he was constantly pushed from side to side. He was met with a very familiar voice when reaching the other side of the door. He knew it was Jameson; no-one could forget that very distinctive high-pitched voice of his. John wasn’t too pleased about seeing him; he had been asking him to do a lot of things lately. They were small tasks here and there but they were taking up a lot of his time. He had very little time to study and John also wanted make some time to send letters to Sherlock, but time was very limited. 

“You’ve been ignoring me John,” he said sternly with a smile on his face. It was creepy how he always did that when he was slightly pissed off; it almost seemed kind of threatening

“You know I’m trying to make as much time as I can for you Jameson,” John replied.

“Anyway I just wanted to see how my John has been doing.”

“Fine.”

“Good, good. I’m glad you’re settling into things. How’s Sherlock?”

“Sherlock?” John was getting worried; did Jameson know what was going on between them? If he did then there would be trouble. 

“Yes, how’s our little Prince doing?”

“How do you…”

Jameson gave him a cheeky smirk that sent shivers down John’s spine. Jameson put his finger to his lips, exerting a quiet “shhhhh”. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell,” he said in a hushed tone.

His laughs, his smile, his voice, John couldn’t stand it anymore. 

“John, I need you to do something for me,” Jameson explained that he needed John to run an errand for him. A small task that seemed simple for John; he never questioned the purpose of anything that he did. They seemed like anybody’s task to be honest. Jameson handed him a basket of flowers, poinsettia to be exact and they were enchanting, fragrant and exotic, suitable for women way out of his league; elegant, attractive and rich; all of which John were not. 

“For you my beautiful.” Jameson laughed as he handed the basket. Then his expression turned serious, “deliver these to this address,” and he handed John a small parchment with what was assumed to be the address. “Tell the receiver that these are from me and that I send them my best wishes. Understood?”

John nodded in confirmation. The address took him over the Thames to Brixton, which only took him an hour by cab. Cab fare was not cheap but luckily Jameson seemed to provide John with everything he needed, especially for the errands he did for him. The address belonged to an apothecary in the quiet part of town. It wasn’t too hard to find, because there wasn’t much around in Brixton, but it was certainly different than the centre of London. It seemed nice to him, he’d missed the quiet serenity of the countryside. It wasn’t the surroundings that reminded him of home, because Brixton was very well developed but it was the emptiness of the city compared to the hustle and bustle of the busiest part of London. 

He entered the shop with the basket in hand. He was greeted by a fellow who didn’t seem much older than Jameson. 

“I’ve got a delivery from Jameson. He sends his best wishes.”

“Tell him I said thanks, errr-” the man hesitated.

“John”

“Thank you John.” Then the man took the basket and went into the back room with no further words. Odd. The man simply ignored him and scurried back into his personal quarters. John immaturely thought to himself how the man managed to keep a business running if all he did was avoid confrontation. He laughed off the thought and headed his way back out into the streets to look for another cab back home. 

Hours passed by and he finally returned back to his home, with barely any sunlight left for the day. He couldn’t help but think about this afternoon. _Why had Jameson made him deliver flowers to an apothecary? What was he up to?_ These thoughts rested in his mind as he settled into the evening with study.  


* * *

At the palace, something was eating at the back of his mind. Sherlock paced up and down in his room, he had never felt so on edge but he couldn’t stop thinking about John’s mysterious benefactor. Firstly why was he so mysterious? Jameson was his name and yet Sherlock knew nothing else about him apart from his very average appearance (based on John’s slightly useless description) and his wealth, that part was obvious. His mind had never failed him before and so he was forced to consult someone with higher power; his brother.

Sherlock navigated through many corridors, left and right, up the stairs and through several more corridors before reaching the King’s quarters. He swung open the tall double doors forcefully, which obviously created drama, which was what he was; a drama queen. 

“How many times have I told you Sherlock to announce your presence before entering my office? I’m on official business right at this moment”

“But I did announce my presence, by barging through these ridiculously large doors. Everybody get out. I need to talk to Mycroft, it’s rather important and judging from amount of attention you’re all giving, I’d rather think that my situation is of higher priority. So leave.”

“You’ll have to excuse my brother, he’s bored.” Mycroft apologised. 

The government officials and the King’s advisers seemed rather happy that they were forced out. Sherlock was right, the meeting was rather boring and hardly anyone paid any attention to the King. 

“Well, what’s so important that you interrupted my meeting?”

“You do realise that you only have these meetings to make it seem like you’re not so lazy and that you look like you actually give a shit, when in fact you’d rather sit and eat all day.” Mycroft knew Sherlock was right. But that didn’t stop him feeling defensive. 

“Do you know anyone named Jameson?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Do you?” 

“The name hasn’t cropped up before.”

“Damn. I’ve hit dead-end again.” Sherlock’s frustration returned. He was hoping that it was some Mycroft knew, and he knew a lot of people. 

“Who is he and why is he of your concern?”

“He’s a rather generous benefactor of a friend of mine and I don’t like that.”

“Wow,” was all Mycroft said with astonishment. “You have a friend? You don’t have friends.”

“I don’t. I only have one.”

“Do enlighten me.”

“His name is John if you must know.”

“Wait, I think I vaguely remember seeing you chatting with a rather short gentleman at the ball a few weeks ago. Is that your so-called _friend_?”

“You could say that.” Sherlock’s tone was rather playful, but not enough so that Mycroft caught on. 

Mycroft didn’t dilly-dally any further and got to work finding information about man named Jameson. He had summoned his closest royal personnel to do the dirty work for him. As if he would get his hands dirty for something that was vaguely interesting to him. Why was he doing this for Sherlock and why was he suddenly interested in his “friend”. He knew why he was doing this in all honesty. This was the first interesting thing that he'd done in a long time. Nothing ever happened in this country. He had looked after it so well that there was not much to do. Everything was perfect, or that’s what it would seem. 

After a long gruelling chat with Mycroft, he felt mentally exhausted. He hadn’t spoken to John in a long time, if two weeks was considered a long time. For Sherlock it was, he missed him a lot and he couldn’t stop thinking about him. Maybe if he sent him a small gesture, then he’d show John that he hasn’t completely ignored him. 

So with that idea in mind, he sat down with a quill and some parchment and got to writing John a letter. It was a short letter but it was succinct and got to the point. He fetched one of the servants to personally deliver the letter for him, along with a small gift and paid him handsomely for the effort. This way would ensure that it would arrive as soon as possible.

* * *

A knock was sounded on John’s bedroom door. A man had been let in into the house and so he was standing outside John’s bedroom with a note and a medium sized box. 

“John Watson?” the man enquired.

John replied, “Yes?”

“An offering from the Prince, Sir.” The man handed him the items and went away as soon as he did. 

He opened the letter and it read,

_Dear John,_

_It has been far too long since our last meeting. I dream of you every night and think of you every day and yet that has not fully satisfied me. I apologise for my lack of presence but it’s been rather hectic at the Palace, with the abdication taking place very soon. My schedule has me up and about for twenty of the twenty-four hours of a day. I’m constantly surrounded by people, who want to talk to me and fawn over me. I hate it so much. I hate people. They’re all so naïve and stupid. Why can’t they be more like you? Actually, I wish they weren’t. I only want one of you._

_Anyway, I am yearning to see you in the next few days when my schedule frees up. But in the meantime, I have disclosed something rather exotic gift for you. It was a gift from Italy, when we went on a state visit. No ideas why they thought I needed this, but apparently it was very popular in Italy and they thought it would be a good idea for us to bring it back to England. No idea why, but we’ll see won’t we?_

_I shall see you soon my John._

_Sherlock_

After reading the letter, his cheeks were blushing pink and he felt slightly warmer than before. He looked down at the box that was sitting on the table below him. What had Sherlock sent him? He picked it up and unwrapped it. It was a beautiful mahogany wooden box, decorated with gold paint and embellished crystals and opals. It had the royal insignia in the middle of lid; it looked rather expensive, so much so that he must keep it in a safe place, but after he opens the box. Curious to see what Sherlock had sent, he slowly lifted the lid in anticipation. He looked down and with a smirk on his face and uttered the words, “that cheeky bastard”.


End file.
